Justric

OWoD

Need a Kiasyd?

The Orphan's Wedding

I don't think she needs to reach across the universes for it. While you have not yet revealed her backstory (and please don't! I'd rather find out in story), it's clear that she had the courage to run from a bad situation and from her family, leaving behind all she's known. That is bravery in and of itself! She may not be the sword-slinger, gun-toting version of herself in the other realities, but as a writer I do not doubt that this Kijani has courage. In fact, I think she has more courage than her counterparts. You see, it's one thing to be brave when you know how to use a gun or a blade, or when you have powers or abilities beyond those of 'mortal men' (and women, obviously.) Far braver is the person without such skills or knowledge but who still stands his/her ground despite knocking knees and heart gripping terror.

The Orphan's Wedding

I do have plans for an action scene in the near future: bandits who hear that there's a wealthy young woman in the area, protected only by her lamed host.

The Orphan's Wedding

Victor coughed brusquely in embarrassment at the mention of turning him into a reader. Reading was clerks' work, something officers and quartermasters did and certainly not soldiers! Well, not most soldier, he had to admit to himself. There were always a few odd ones, here and there, men who had been running from something and hid in the ranks so they couldn't be found. Victor was far less interested in reading and talking about books than he was in simply listening to her read.

"Yes, well," he grumped a bit, "We'll see."

He helped her up onto the driver's bench and then climbed up to sit besides her to take up the reigns. With a gentle snap of the leather and a clucking sound, he urged the gelding to start moving again. The road had a turnabout a little ways further. Once around that and they would be headed back for the house. Victor quickly regretted the curt reply he had given regarding the idea of becoming someone who had time to read, and tried to make it up with what small talk he could muster.

"Don't know if Feather even knows how to read," he abruptly announced after a few minutes of silence on his part. By then they had reached the circle and were turning about, the green grass in the center looking all the world as though it were made to be the perfect place for a family's day out; it was large enough for games yet small enough to be private. To Victor, it was just a wide circle of grass that needed mowing. "Most folks around here don't," he continued awkwardly, "Read for pleasure, that is. Or read at all. Not much time to spare for it. Some of the elders and richer farmers for contracts and the like, sure. And Vicar Parsons at the Church, of course."

The creak and sway of the cart was calming, and as nervous as he felt he was around his guest the journey back helped to relax him. "Listening, now? Folks here about are great listeners, especially if they like what they're hearing. A beggar or tinker that can spin a good yarn or tell a tall tale won't ever be short of a meal and a place by the fire in Arbordale, miss, I can tell you that. Vicar Parsons says its part of the region's 'oral tradition' or some such. I don't know from 'oral tradition', whatever that is, but they do love a good story here about."

As he spoke, the ex-solider was all too aware of her proximately and warmth as he drove them back. It made his throat dry. Every now and then the cart jolted a bit, causing Kijani and Victor to bump up against one another. It caused any number of pleasant sensations in him, dampened down by his expectations of reality. It was rather frustrating. He was starting to admit that he found her attractive, that he liked her voice. Only he doubted as fact that anything would ever come out of making a go of it. There were too many obvious obstacles to even admitting possibilities! She was a guest, one who would soon be returning to Verrun! And she was among the elite. Kijani had come right out and admitted her family used auto horses, the tireless automatons that pulled the wealthy and powerful about the city for pleasure and pursuits. What she called the 'lower parts' of the city, with its real horses and oxen, was actually where the middle class merchants and traders works and lived! Down in Verrun's bowels, where lay the rookeries and the orphanages and the soldiers' recruiting stations, down where Victor had been born and raised, a horse was a meal and one that had probably been stolen at that! Besides, he was quite clearly making her nervous. He could see it in the way she twisted her braid about her finger, the way she looked away now and then and stammered.

If only he had seen those same mannerisms in the way he was acting, Victor might have better understood instead of trying to steel his heart against disappointment. To distract himself (and thinking he was giving her a way out), he changed topics.

"So how long are you with us, Miss Kijani? Alderman Brown never said."

The Highwayman Came Riding

He gave her a smile which was bright with relief despite the gloom of the early morning. Pulling his hand from her mouth slowly, ready to place it again upon her lips should she take so much a a sharp breath, he reached for the hem of his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, the voluminous fabric fell across them both, highwayman and maid, to mask them from the weak rays of sunlight that threatened to pierce the forest’s shadows. They were cocooned close together in that thin privacy, his tri-corn knocked aside but face still hidden beneath the thick material. Boldly, he grabbed her hip and rolled her to his side so they might lay face to face with one another upon their bed of moss. The highwayman’s breath smelled of peppercorn, faint traces of some citrine cologne clinging to his skin.

Another snap of twigs upon the forest floor, and he knew how close his pursuers might be. Their voices were clearer now, more distinct. Two men, he decided, the same two that had run him off so rudely from his prize, and his guess was confirmed by their low voices as they spoke to one another.

“ ‘ere. You sure ‘e went this way?”

“No other way he could have gone,” a slightly more educated voice replied. “The gully that way is nearly impassible even in the day time, and the other way leads back to the road and the village. He’s a rather noticeable character. I doubt he would be stupid enough to go that way. So our bandit must have made a straight course this way.” There was a pause. “What’s that there, down by the stream.”

The Highwayman wanted to swear vociferously. The possibility of capture was far too near for his liking, and it was only by skill and guile that he could ensure his escape. Skill and guile… and a pretty face.

“Giggle, lass,” he hissed anxiously, “Giggle as though you are with a lover who is amusing you! Else the next lass to embrace me will be the rope maker’s daughter!” Impatience and fear emboldened him. “Here, like this then!” Kid gloved fingers found her ribs and danced lightly along to tickle her. He reflected that this was actually pleasant, or at least would be were not two armed men seeking his head for a bounty. It would be an easy thing to let his hands wander roguishly over her, to take what pleasure he might in the situation. Only while a thief and a bandit, the Highwayman was no cad or ruffian.

The Bonny Black Hare

James grinned all the wider as the woman deigned to play along with his impromptu fantasy, taking Brenna's hand in his own as she stepped up to him. She was light and warm in his arms. Taking great pains to account for her injured leg, he began to lead her into an improvised waltz with a faltering step so that she might not aggravate her wounds all the more. James hummed under his breath, a made up tune that was (even he had to admit) rhythmic but certainly lacking in anything that might make it actually music. All the same, he giggled a bit at himself whenever he faltered a note. "Oh, my," he jested ruefully, "The orchestra leaves something to be desired, I'm afraid."

Even as he mocked himself, the smile on his lips and in his eyes never left as he looked into her face. As they glided about the cottage's floor, the gentleman was overcome with the strangest sensation of deja vu. Multiple sensations at once, actually. Hadn't they done this before?? He was almost positive this wasn't the first time he had danced with Brenna like this, yet this was the first time he recalled ever being here or seeing her. It was as though a multitude of memories was flashing through his head where this entire scene had been enacted out time and time again, albeit just the tiniest bit different each time. Where did these visions come from, he wondered. Why does it seem that this... this had all happened before, or is yet to happen again, or both? Is this some spell or witchcraft that is flooding my mind?

James' body continued on its own as his mind was lost in a delightful puzzlement, a riddle whose answer was somehow to be found in that lovely face that made his lips smile and his heart pound. He gave her a last slow twirl half around until she rested with her back to his chest, nestled in his one arm with her head looking back up at him. One hand still held hers while the other rested upon her hip. It was a breathless moment in which they hung, faces mere inches apart while their bodies were pressed close to one another. It would have been such a simple thing for him to lean his head forward and down those few scant inches towards her and-

His throat was suddenly dry, and he had to swallow to speak. James heard his own voice come out, hoarse and... sad? "I'm... sorry, I should not have... You've been very kind, and I shouldn't..."

In the back of his head, a voice was shouting back: Yes, you should, you dolt! Kiss her!

Oh, to heed that voice! Only his station and rank in society hung heavily on his shoulders, weighing him down again with a resignation. What would this woman, whom he had only just met, do if she should feel he was leading her on? Was it far to her to stir interest in her... and in himself... if there was little that could come of it? Surely this seemingly carefree woman with her teasing glances and bold looks had no interest in a spoiled brat of London society. If only those repeating scenes of them dancing together did not linger so in his mind.

The Bonny Black Hare

Not to worry! Between the convention (which went surprisingly well!!) and the Guild being down for about 2 days, I fell a tad behind on everything myself!

Never Lose Your Hat!

The Jaeger took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the ringing in his head subside before replying with a negligent wave of his hand. "Ja, ja. I chust jarred my head a bit on da vay down." He then looked up at her with a look of injured pride. "Und I vast not fleeing. Jaegers don't flee. I vas chust... adopting a new tactical position. Ja, dat's it! Fleeing. Pah."

He slowly gathered his feet beneath him and stood up, rubbing his head between the two small horns that crested his skull. It was then that a look of horror crossed his face, and Jötz began to look around frantically. "Mine hat! Vhere iz mine hat?!" The green furred creature began looking about for the now missing brown derby with all the energy a mother might put into looking for a lost child. A slew of profanities fell from his fanged mouth as he cast about for it with reckless abandon. It didn't matter where they were at that point. They could have been in the pleasured palaces of Paris or standing at the rim of a highly active volcano surrounded by carnivorous beagles. "A Jaeger mitout a hat," he muttered to himself. "Any plan vhere you lose you hat ist a bad plan. I lost mine hat, so dis iz a bad plan und zo dis iz a bad place to be!"

Looking up at the girl, he scowled. She seemed so calm and collected (compared to his current state at any rate) that it was almost annoying. Having been unable to find his headwear for all his frantic searching, Jötz looked positively petulant. "A hatless Jaeger. I vill be da laughing stock iffn ve come across other Jaegers, chou know. Chust you wait! Dey vill see me und go, 'Ho, ho. He lost his hat! He ist a silly boy."

Clearly upset by the whole turn of events, the monster crossed his arms and plopped down against a wall in a pout. "I didn't even get to keel anyone today. I bet da Jaegers mit da Baron get to keel people all da time."

The Orphan's Wedding

Oh my, yes. He's a rather stubborn fellow, even when it comes to his own feelings.

The Highwayman Came Riding

I love the FanDubs by ProzD. Great voice actor! And there's the "radio" adaptation as well: .

Now that the convention is over (and the Guild is back up again), I'm slowly getting caught up on all my RPs. A reply should be coming soon, I hope!